Media | Marc André Ter Stegen

Lunch

I finish editing the celebration video from tonight and upload it to the Barca YouTube channel. I yawn and check the clock.
2 a.m.
I rub my eyes and close my laptop. I slip into bed and see that Marc texted me a few minutes ago.
"Miss you. I love you. Lunch tomorrow?"
I smile to myself and text him back a yes.
These past months have been amazing. I've made friends with the team and at work. Marc has been amazing and Spain is beautiful. However, being away from Cali for so long makes me miss Morgan. And makes me think of Chris.

I wake up the next morning at 7. Sadly, I have to be in work by 8:30. I sigh and get up slowly. I get ready quickly but make sure to look nicer since Marc and I will be grabbing lunch.

"Lauren!" Neymar exclaims as I walk onto the training grounds.
        "Ney!" I hug him and a whiff of cologne fills my nose.
          "How's Ter Stegen?" He asks with a wink.
        "Good. We're good," I laugh.
         "Some of the boys are coming over tonight. Want to come?" He asks.
          "Are you asking me to come over and beat you at FIFA again?"
         "Those are fighting words," he fakes being mad.
          I laugh again, "You're on."

I get settled into my office and smile to myself. I still can't believe I'm head of the media department.
The pile of paper work I need to finish up taunts me and before I can dive in, a knock sounds on my door.
          "Come in."
Marc opens the door.
        "Marc!" I light up.
I stand up and kiss him over my desk.
        "Hello, love. I brought you something," he reaches into his gym bag and pulls out a small pink gift bag.
        "Marc! Thank you," I take the gift and reach into the bag.
I pull out a small, white photo album. The cover is a selfie I took of Marc and I a few days after we met. The title says, "Our Story."
Tears sting my eyes.
        "Marc," I look up at him in disbelief.
I flip the book open to find pictures that I helped him take, pictures of us, pictures I took of his house, of Barcelona. It's perfect.
There's an empty page in the back.
      "That one is for later," he says.
         "Later?" I ask.
         "We're still on for lunch, right?" He asks.
         "Of course."
         "See you then," he kisses my forehead and heads out of my office.
I stand stunned for a moment. What's later?

I haven't been able to stop wringing my hands all day. My leg taps a hundred miles an hour and my stomach flip flops. I watch the clock. Ten minutes until Marc should come get me. I push through the last bit of a sponsorship deal and try not to freak out.
        "Lauren?"
I look up quickly, but I deflate when I see that it's Sanchez.
        "Hello sir. Come in," I say.
He strides in and eyes the photo album displayed on my desk.
          "I need to speak with you. And Marc. Any chance that could be soon?" He asks.
Oh no.
          "How soon?" I ask.
          "Tomorrow at the latest. I'm free at 1. Be in my office. He should be finished training."
Sanchez is the sporting director now of the club. So whatever this is won't be good.
         "Sure thing, boss."
He nods and does a 180 on the heel of his shiny shoes.
I bite my lip. Are we in trouble? It has to be about us. He said something once about our relationship and how we should stay quiet. Which we didn't really do.
         "Lauren?" This time it's Marc.
Relieved, I sigh and wrap my arms around his neck. I breath in his familiar scent and all the fears clear out of my head.
        "I love you."
         "I love you too." I feels great to hear him say that.
Whatever Sanchez wants to worry me with can wait. I'm in love and Marc is perfect.
He leads me out of the office and to the restaurant on the training ground.
I notice a large amount of the team is also here. Everyone, really. Including staff. I wave to some closer friends that I see. Neymar is taking a video of us it seems.
We get some salads and take our seat. Flowers grace the table we sit at.
           "This is lovely," I squeeze Marc's hand as I spot the table.
We eat for a moment but everyone seems strangely quiet.
        "How was practice?"
         "Good. It was good. A little hard today."
         "Hard how?"
         "Just some new drills that I wasn't used to. Hurt my shoulder a little bit."
          "Are you ok?" I reach out instinctively and grab his hand.
          "I'm better with you."
I blush.
         "I... I've been a better man around you these past six months. And our six month anniversary is next week. I still remember the day I saw you at that fashion show. You were the most beautiful girl in the room. And I've come to find out that not only are you beautiful but also smart, funny, creative, kind, caring, considerate and loving."
I cover my mouth as he gets down on one knee and pulls a ring box out of his pocket.
          "I love you, Lauren Marks. Infinitely. You make me a better man and I want to be better forever, with you. Will you marry me?"
Tears sting my eyes again. I nod frantically.
        "Yes! Yes, yes! Of course!"
He slides the gorgeous ring onto my finger.
He stands up and I kiss him passionately.
Everyone around us claps and shouts in joy.
I smile as we break apart. I look into his big blue eyes for a moment longer. My fiancé. My favorite person. My Marc.
I smile to everyone and see a familiar face in the crowd. It can't be.
         "Morgan?" I call out.
A beautiful blonde steps out from beside Messi.
        "Congrats, Marks. You got a good one."
I run to her and wrap her in a big hug. She squeezes me tight.
        "I missed you."
         "I missed you babe!" She holds me at arms length. "You look fantastic."
        "Thank you!"
I step back to Marc's side and wrap an arm around him and Morgan fawns over my ring. The team shakes our hands in congratulations.
      Neymar gives me a big hug, "Congrats, Laur."
I know I must have a stupid smile plastered to my face but I don't care at this point. I beam up at Marc and he kisses my forehead.
         "I love you," I say.
         "I love you."
          "I'm exited to spend forever with you," I hug him tighter.
        "Mrs. Ter Stegen... that sounds good," he winks.
       "It sounds perfect."